


11 Minutes

by kazosah



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Stiles turns 18, devirginizing schemes, friendly cops, lead in to first time, there's one kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazosah/pseuds/kazosah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A relatively new Beacon Hills officer is finishing his patrol shift for the night when he comes upon a familiar Jeep parked on the side on the highway. Inside the Jeep is a couple, nothing obscene happening, both of them just... waiting? For what?</p>
            </blockquote>





	11 Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> I literally wrote this today (also un-beta'd) and it was inspired by a chain letter email forwarded from my grandma... What? Yeah...

A young, still-somewhat-new Beacon Hills police officer was patrolling late at night off the main highway that ran through the small town. It was nearing midnight; once the clock ticked from PM to AM he would be able to head back to the station and clock out and go home, just a few more minutes to go. But as he drove his final round of the night, he noticed a car parked on the shoulder near the forest's edge - a lover's lane of sorts - a very familiar car, actually. The Sheriff's son's Jeep. The interior glowed brightly from the overhead light to show a couple in the car. The officer smirked smally as he picked up the mic from the radio on the dash, "Hey, Sheriff." It was late, and there was no need to use formal police codes.

"Yeah?" the Sheriff's voice crackled from the speaker.

"I've got Stiles' Jeep here parked on the side of the highway, 'bout half a mile from the town's line."

The Sheriff didn't sigh into the mic from the station, but it was definitely a prelude before he grumbled, "Ah, crap." And the young officer grinned to himself waiting for the Sheriff to say anything else.

When Sheriff Stilinski didn't speak up again, he assured his superior, "I'm gonna check it out. I'm sure he's not up to anything criminal, sir," and tried not to audibly snort when he heard noncommittal grumbling from the other end before Stilinski muttered an affirmative.

He pulled off to the side, parking the patrol car just ten feet or so from the Jeep's bumper. The speaker crackled to life again just as the officer opened the door with his flashlight in hand, "And tell my son he'd better have a very good explanation for this. Just because tomorrow's Friday doesn't make this any less a school night."

"Will do, Sheriff."

With the flashlight illuminating his path the officer slowly approached the Jeep and could see the owner was sprawled along the back seat with his phone in hand, playing some kind of game, judging from the vibrant, flashing colors on the screen. And in the passenger seat up front was a figure he couldn't quite make out, aside from broad, leather clad shoulders, his face was concealed, nose deep in some book. Neither of them appeared to be aware of his presence, until he tapped the head of the flashlight against the glass, and Stiles went flailing. His phone launched out of his hand, and he scrambled to catch it before it rocketed into the roof or window, and then turned to the officer, with wide eyes that quickly squinted at the light.

"Oh, hey!" Stiles was quick on his feet, the officer had to give him that. Laying on a nonchalant attitude as he rolled down the window and hooked his arm out, casual, "Officerrrrr..." the teen hummed as he tried to produce a name, "Monroe, right? New guy?"

The officer, Monroe, nodded, "That's right," he angled the light down when he confirmed that Stiles pupils were reacting normally, glad he wouldn't have to haul his boss's son in on illegal substance or consumption charges... or the guy in the front seat, who had yet to move, or even glance around to see what was up. Monroe gave a jerking nod toward the stranger, not so discreet, since the guy wasn't looking anyway, he asked Stiles, "You doin' alright, kid?"

"Who? Me? Yeah! Yeah, I'm - Stiles is alright. Stiles is great, in fact. No - no complaints here, just, uh, you know, enjoying the, um, the sights of a, uh, barren... highway..." Stiles swallowed thickly, that cool composure gone in an instant, and the man up front grunted out a short mocking sound.

"In the middle of the night?" Monroe questioned with a slight smirk.

"It's not the middle yet, is it? Is it?" he somehow struggled to locate and click the power button on his phone. 

But then a low grumbling voice answered softly from the front seat, "11 minutes, Stiles."

Stiles' amped up demeanor settled down, though there was still a tremor in his fingers as he held his phone, one arm still hanging out the window.

"Right..." Monroe said, obviously unconvinced, "As much as a barren stretch of highway bathed in the dark of night might be a sight to see, seriously, what are you doing?"

"Uh," Stiles' mouth fell open and his hand with his phone raised up into view, "Playing Candy Crush...?"

Monroe nods, "And him?"

"Reading a book on runes? He's heavily into folklore, gotta find that balance between brain and brawn, yep. Personally, I enjoy the brawny side a smidge more, but that pinch between his brows when he's reading," Stiles' let out a dramatic swooning sort of sigh. And another grunt sounded from the front seat, something that sounded probably unintentionally more appreciative than scolding, and Stiles chuckled.

"Uh huh." And Monroe could see what was going here now, piece by piece it was making more sense. Clearly this was some secret relationship that the Sheriff wasn't aware of, or maybe he was aware of it... The young officer doubted it, and he was still on the clock, still had to uphold the law. "And how old is he?"

"Derek? He's 25," Stiles answered calmly, simply. But that wasn't simple, wasn't any good. Monroe knew for a fact that Stiles was still in school, and the Sheriff had mentioned it before he left his vehicle, he was a high schooler.

"And you're -" Monroe was cut off when the stranger, Derek, put his book on the dash and turned in his seat. With his face in the light, dark hair, stubble, strong jaw, peculiar green-hazel eyes, Monroe could only come up with - rugged, the guy had a rugged complexion.

"He turns 18 in 11 minutes." And from the tone he'd spoken those words alone, Monroe could understand, but combined with the look Derek gave him he knew that an investigation wouldn't have to be launched, no arrest would have to be made, Derek was respectable, a good man. And from the way he was perfectly composed, calm, and the way Stiles was practically vibrating in his skin, he assumed this was all Stiles' idea. Whatever this was exactly, though he had an inkling.

Monroe felt a smile spread over his mouth, nostalgia taking over for a moment, remembering the good old days of his youth. Though his good old days were just a decade ago, it felt like eons ago, but he could recall the excitement, and anticipation, and the - well, he remembered it fondly.

Derek reached his hand into the back seat to put a steadying hand on Stiles anxiously bouncing knee, stilling the motion and calming the teen.

The officer cleared his throat, snapping out of his reverie and taking notice of the worry etched in Stiles face, his lip trapped between his teeth, gnawing. "You don't plan on..." it went without saying, especially when Stiles began to flush at the neck and it progressed upward, "in your Jeep, do you?" Monroe wondered, purely for law abiding reasons. He didn't want to bring the Sheriff's kid in for drugs or booze, but bringing him in for public sex, yeah, that was something he definitely didn't want to do either - more so.

"Oh, no! Of course not. Mr. Deep Pockets here's springing for a ritzy hotel room, and by ritzy hotel room, I mean that's where the Jeep is going to be parked and we're taking the Camaro back to his place, and I don't know why I'm telling you this please don't tell my dad, oh, my god."

Monroe heard Derek mumble a curse under his breath, and Stiles' eyes closed as he winced. The officer snorted, and shook his head, having the town Sheriff as a father had to be rough, he felt for the kid, "All I heard was Jeep parked at a hotel."

Stiles eyes snapped open, and he blinked - once, twice - and for a moment it looked like he might actually repeat what he said again, until he realized. His eyes brightened and a grin broke across his face, his hand clapped against the outside of the door and he laughed, finger pointed at the officer, "I like you, man! The department says I make the greatest food - casseroles, cookies, and whatever else you want, dude, I will make it for you, you're the best!"

"Consider this my birthday gift to you, kid. Be safe." With that Monroe walked back to the patrol car, got settled in, turned the key in the ignition and turned back onto the highway, back onto the road that would take him to the heart of Beacon Hills. Distantly he could hear the crow of, "The BEST! Not even kidding!" And from his rear view mirror he could see Stiles waving his arm after Monroe's car, seated in the open window, 80% of his body waving about, then Derek yanking him back into the Jeep. Silhouetted against the ceiling light he could see Stiles throw his arms around Derek's shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss, sweet and happy. Derek's restricting hold loosened into something soft and caressing. 

Monroe looked away just as they parted, and picked up the mic on the dash radio. He called in, professional this time, and the Sheriff responded, "What did he do." It wasn't even posed as a question, and Monroe wondered if one day he'd reach that point in parenthood when he'd grow accustomed to his child's antics, anticipate it.

"He was with a, uh, Derek?"

"Oh, god," the Sheriff's sigh brought heavy static over the speakers. Apparently that name was familiar to the Sheriff, maybe the relationship - whatever it was - was familiar to him too. He could picture the Sheriff scrubbing a hand over his forehead and brow in exhaustion, "And...?"

Monroe shook his head minutely to the side with a short chuckle, "You are aware that your son's birthday is tomorrow, sir? In 11 - no, now nine minutes it'll be midnight, and he'll technically be 18 years old."

The channel fell silent...

The Sheriff was soothed by two of his deputies, both of them, Monroe could hear over the radio channel, telling him he couldn't put out an ABP without reasonable suspicion. Stiles wasn't missing, his record was clean (sort of), and so was Derek's. But the Sheriff was walking out of the station on quick feet, just as Monroe pulled in, fully checked out of Sheriff-mode and into protective-father-over-his-only-son mode. Monroe craved for the day he would experience that feeling, too. But as for now, he would accompany Sheriff Stilinski, and sympathize with him when he realized his son had led him on a wild goose chase. His now adult son who could date, and do... what ever he pleased with his boyfriend... Derek Hale.

Needless to say after that verbal revelation Monroe decided to take his boss to a local bar and buy him all the drinks he needed until last call. By then maybe Stiles would be home, and the next morning the crafty kid would be able to whip up some well worded lie his father would believe in his hungover state. The Sheriff would smile, wincing through his throbbing headache and wish his son a happy 18th, and he'd never remember the call he got about 11 minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first Sterek piece I've written AND finished, there are SO MANY MORE that are in the works or stuck, but this one's the first to be finished. It's supposed to be ridiculous and goofy, not something I normally write because I apparently enjoy creating these super dramatic and angsty scenarios, but NOT THIS TIME! I don't know. I just read that little story in the email and thought, HAH! Sterek! This could be Sterek! So I did it...? Hooray for first completed Sterek story?


End file.
